Not All Lawyers Are Heartless
by Madam Mimm
Summary: Kind of spiritual successor to "Welcome to the stage", but no real continuity. Lawyer!Sam is consoled by domestic!Gabriel. On the nature of work, stress, depression, and loving someone
1. Chapter 1

Sam scratched his fingers through his hair and stared at the computer screen, desperately trying to remember why he should give a shit.

"Sam?" The voice came from the bedroom doorway, and was thick with sleep. "You're still up?"

"I can't go to sleep, not yet," Sam managed to tear his eyes away from the laptop and look in Gabriel's vague direction, before letting them fall to the keyboard. "I need to finish this by tomorrow night."

"So come to bed and work on it tomorrow." Gabriel didn't move from where he was leaning heavily against the door frame. Gabriel liked his sleep, and he was altogether unhappy when Sam got in the way of it. Especially when there was no question of sex.

"I can't, Gabriel, it's all wrong, I need to put in some serious work."

"But you're not doing any work. You're just sat there staring at the damn thing and freaking yourself out."

Sam didn't respond. Gabriel heaved a sigh which, if it weren't half three in the morning, might be considered melodramatic. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself off from the door frame, walked over to the couch and prized Sam's empty coffee mug from his hands, before closing the laptop and pushing it back across the table. He fully expected Sam to strike up a bitch-fit. Instead, he slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"You're right. It's going to suck whatever I do to it. I'm going to lose the case, it'll take me years before the firm takes a chance on me again, and then I'll lose my job because they realise I suck and I'm not cut out to be a lawyer."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, which was about all the movement he really felt he could manage right now, and sank down next to the frazzled young lawyer.

"Chill."

No reply.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around Sam, and quietly stroked his hair. Sam's head fell to Gabriel's shoulder, and for a moment, neither man moved.

"It's fucking stupid." Sam grumbled. "I'm fucking stupid. I've got no…"

"Hey, whoah…" Gabriel lifted Sam's face. "Don't talk like that."

"It's true, Gabriel, I'm such a fucking ass that I fall at the first hurdle and then I get depressed. I'm clearly some selfish asshole to have all I've got and feel as miserable as this…"

"Oh, kid, you've been going on the internet again, huh?" Gabriel shuffled, back, so he could look Sam in the eyes, his red satin boxers snagging on the couch cushions. "Sam Winchester. You are not to be blamed for clinical depression in otherwise privileged white males. That's just the way things go. Trust me, I know, there isn't any logic behind who finds themselves popping pills every morning just to make their brains work."

"But I'm…"

"Yeah, Sam, I know. You're smart, you're educated, you're from a pretty good background… Yeah, you had some shit happen to you when you were a kid, but you're over it and on the whole well adjusted… You have a boyfriend who, let's face it, is possibly the hottest being to ever walk the Earth and as sexy as the Devil's strip club…" Sam sniffed something resembling a laugh, and the sight of his smile made Gabriel's even bigger. "Not to mention your boyfriend has a tendency to be a total ass at times, and yet you still wait patiently for him to come to his senses. And he appreciates that. And he loves you for that."

He shuffled closer again, cupping Sam's face in his hands and staring him in the eyes.

"Depression isn't selfishness, kiddo. It's a personality trait like having brown eyes and being able to loop your tongue. Some people have it, some people don't. Some people don't know they have it until they get stressed out and then they find out too late. It's not your fault, and it's not your choice. But you can get over it, if you try."

Sam closed his eyes, pulling away from Gabriel. He stood up and marched across the living room, trying to find something to look at that wouldn't upset him. Gabriel sat for a moment, watching his boyfriend's shoulders tense and relax.

"I believe in you, Sammy. And you know I never back a losing horse. So if I believe in you, and Dean, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Cas, Pam… you better smarten up and start believing in yourself too. But hey, if you're still run down once you've had a good night's sleep and calmly worked through your current tasks, then we can see about getting you a counsellor. If you really want, you could go on meds. But it's your choice. Your call. And not something you have to think about now. Right now, you need some sleep."

"But…" Sam spun round, only to see Gabriel stood behind him, one hand on his hip and the other pressed firmly to his lips.

"No arguments. I want to keep you as fine as you are, both physically and mentally. And that means you need to get your hot ass rested." Gabriel smiled, but didn't hide the concern in his eyes. "Please, Sam. Come to bed."

Not knowing what else to do, Sam nodded, and let Gabriel lead him away, allowing himself to be eased and massaged to sleep.

The next morning, he woke to find a plate containing a still warm bacon sandwich, next to a mug of steaming coffee, both on a tray on the nightstand. He pushed himself up and looked around, before seeing a bright green post-it stuck to the open door. It had an arrow drawn on it in black marker, pointing out of the room. With a sense of morbid curiosity, Sam followed the arrow, to find Gabriel sat at his laptop, frowning.

"Gabe?"

"Hey there, Ripped Van Winkle. Sleep well?"

"Not… too bad. What are you doing?"

"Editing your case proposal thing, with a little help from an online journal store and ."

"Why?"

"Because now I can definitely say that what you've got so far makes sense. And it's definitely idiot proof. You just need to finish it all up, and you've got 'til tonight to do it." Gabriel smiled at him, before noticing his empty hands. "You'll want to eat your breakfast before it goes cold."

Sam went back into the bedroom, retrieved his breakfast, and took it back into the living room. He put it down on the coffee table and sat down beside Gabriel, his head resting on his shoulder.

"If I told you what I wanted to say, think you could type it for me?"

"See, I always knew you'd end up banging your secretary." Gabriel grinned, resting his fingers against the keys.

"Gabe?"

"Sure, I can take dick… tation."

Sam laughed into Gabriel's shoulder, before starting to dictate the rest of his proposal.

Usually, he was the one pushing to talk about these sorts of things.

But it was nice to not have to explain a thing.


	2. Chapter 2 Loss of Appetite

"I'm not letting you leave until you eat something."

Gabriel had barricaded the door shut with a table, two chairs and the vacuum cleaner. He was clearly serious.

"I'm not hungry." Nor was he in the mood to play games. Sam wasn't sure whether he wanted to yell, punch something or cry. He might have wanted to do all of them at once.

"You haven't eaten anything in two days." Gabriel held out the plate, which contained buttered toast, a couple of slices of raisin loaf and a Nature Valley bar. "I don't care what you eat, but eat something."

"I'll eat something when I'm there."

"Sam…"

"I'm gonna be late."

"No you won't."

"By the time I've cleared the doorway, yes I will. I'll have a big lunch, I promise…"

"Sam…"

But he had already shoved the furniture aside and was out of the door. Gabriel scowled, put the plate down and picked up his phone. Clearly, this required heavy artillery.

When Sam returned home that evening (having not eaten anything but a biscuit that had come free with his coffee at lunch, although he had stared at a sandwich for a good half hour before eventually pushing it aside), he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus! How long have you been standing there?"

"About ten minutes," Ellen grinned, adjusting her hot pink apron. "Now, sit down in the kitchen, sweetie."

"No, thanks, I've got to…"

"Samuel Winchester, march that behind of yours in there and sit it down." Ellen's motherly tone had not dulled over the years, and Sam reacted out of habit more than anything else. He glared mutinously at his boyfriend, who was leaning against a kitchen counter and smirking.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing, Sammy dearest. But between myself and Ellen, we've got pretty much every recipe known to Man down to a T, so we can officially whip up anything you want. Anything at all. Because, believe it or not, not eating isn't healthy."

"Gabe, I know you're trying to help, but I'm legitimately not hungry. Just the idea of eating something is kind of making me sick. I've got, like, zero appetite.

"We know." Gabriel stepped aside, revealing a row of plates. "Which is why we got tactical."

He started transferring the plates to the table, which was when Sam realised they all held a spoonful or two of his favourite dishes. Gabriel smiled, watching as Sam grudgingly pulled the plate of candied yams towards himself and began to pick at it.

It was slow work, but eventually Gabriel got Sam to eat a plate of something every day, occasionally even a full size meal. Every time he finished a plate, though, Gabriel would take it away and put it in the sink, before turning back and kissing the last remnants of flavour from his lips. It may have been deceptive to train him to expect sexual favours every time he ate all his food, but Gabriel didn't think Sam would mind.


End file.
